Rise of the Koopa King
by PhycoKrusk
Summary: An original and epic look at Bowser's rise from softshell to the King of Koopas
1. Preface and I

Disclaimer: Several characters, which are not yet mentioned, are the property of Nintendo (if you're reading this, then you can probably venture a guess who they are). The rest of them belong to me, in some way, shape or form, unless otherwise noted. This disclaimer is probably implied, but now it's explicit. Thank you.

**Preface**

"Once, perhaps, there was a time when all nations would be afraid to set foot on these lands. Afraid that they would see us, bearing down upon them with axe, club and claw. A berzerk horde that would rend them from limb to limb in the frenzied defense of our home. But they fear us not. The rampaging army is no more, the bloodlust that once filled our veins is spent. The blood of the mighty Koopa had spoiled over the years, and the power we once had has waned into nothingness. Gone are the fearless, deathless warriors, replaced with tired, frightened farmers. We had become weak, and because of it, "they" came.

Masked warriors from another world. They came in full force. Only the ancient and feeble had the knowledge and desire to battle them, and it was because of this that we were driven from our ancestral home. Driven into strange, foreign lands. The pressures became too much for us. Our clans fragmented, and even our families, once the focal point of civilization, splintered and dispersed. Slowly, we Koopa began to die, fading from common to rare, and even turning into myth. Destined to become a mere story told to children at bedtime.

And it is so that I now stand on the sacred soil of my ancestors. It is so that I have abandoned my own, still stable family to their fate. It is so that I have revived the old battle fury from deep within my soul It is so that I am destined not for the path of myth, but for that of legend. It is so that I will fight for the survival of my people at the cost of everything dear to me. Once, I feared the darkness that had stolen from my people their home, their lives, their _souls_, and it sent me running for my mother. Now, that same darkness shall fear me. It shall fear all Koopa. And we shall fear nothing. Not even the great specter of death."

-Bowser, The Great King of the Koopa

**I**

In the beginning, the land was green and filled with life. Plants and animals were in abundance, and peace endured throughout the world, much of it still unexplored and blanketed by the fog of the unknown. Just as the mists hang thickly in the morning and concealed the world from sight, so is this bygone era called the Age of Mists.

It is not know how long the Age of Mists lasted. The oldest of records and stories have been seen and told time and time again and so, it is believed that the land was fertile for twenty thousand years before civilization began, and perhaps even longer. The lands to the north were cold and uninviting, while the lands to the south were dry and inhospitable. But to the east and the west were homes to towering mountains and unending fields of green. The lands to the west belonged to the Toadstools. They were a diminutive and civilized people, not unlike mushrooms, who were simple in nature and peaceful of demeanor. Their interests lay in shaping and weaving. They would make fine vests and houses and conduct experiments of all sorts. The lands to the east were those of the Koopa. They were taller than the Toadstools, but not by much, and were not unlike turtles of great size. They were a simple and peaceful but wild people who lived in the shadows of the great mountains. They would hunt the animals and eat the plants, and would dance for the spirits. It was just as this that life persisted for ten thousand years, until a great and dark shadow moved through the sky and the Dying began.

The great dragon Nelfem came into the world from beyond the mists, and laired himself in the tallest mountain to the east. The moment he landed upon the peak, the rocks themselves turned black, drained of life and empowered with dark magic. The Toadstools, safe in their machinations in the west, saw this abomination and named it the Black Gate, for they believed it was a doorway through which evil would enter the land. The Koopa prayed for answers, and each one sacrificed their most valued possession in apology to the spirits, but found that their guides had abondoned them. All around the primitive tribes, the land began to die, lush grasses turning to sand and water becoming poisonous. Only the strongest and most adaptable animals survived, and in time, they grew into twisted parodies of their former selves. The Toadstools were certain that it was the end for their neighbors, but the Koopa themselves proved to be a strong and adaptable people. They grew larger and more powerful. Their shells became as strong as steel, and they grew iron-hard horns, spikes and claws. Their weapons became more vicious as did they; it was the beginning of their battlelust. Frightened by these shocking changes, the Toadstools retreated even further to the west to protect themseves from the corruption that the great shadow had brought. This would be the last contact between those people until the next age.

As Nelfem's influence spread and infected more of the land, the Koopa grew even stronger in response. The bond between families, long the focal point of their people, solidified and drew them even closer together. Among them, a select few rose above the rest as possessors of truely exceptional might, and they would become the kings and champions of their people. It is so that this era is known as the Age of Heroes. This age would last for another thousand years until the Koopa's greatest hero, Roy, climbed to the top of the Black Gate to challenge Nelfem. Infuriated by the young warrior's insolence, Nelfem lashed out with his claws and belched flame, expecting an easy victory. Hardened by his battles with the perversions living in the Scarred Land below, Roy did not prove to be the weakling Nelfem had thought he was. The battle raged on for ten days, until with his last breath, Roy swung his axe and cleaved the mighty dragon's head from his body.

For two days, Nelfem's head fell, until it struck the earth. Immediately, a great and twisted tree grew that would forever serve to remind the Koopa of the great evil that nested atop the mountain. The dragon's blood rained down upon the land, returning the life essences that had been stolen. Within three hundred years, the waters were drinkable, the animals had returned to their former shapes and the Koopa were once more as they were; simple, unremarkable and peaceful. Only the Black Gate and the ground beneath the leaves and branches of the great tree Nelfem, which had been shielded from the blood of the dragon, remained corrupted, and would be a reminder ever after that these lands were once cursed and scarred. Taking these memories and lessons, the Koopa would strive to ensure that such evil never befell their lands again, and they were careful that a select few remembered the ways of war. Others still discovered that a kind of magic had been awakened in the world, and began to study it so that it could be shaped into a tool to forever safeguard the world from corruption like that of Nelfem, and so began the Age of Wisdom.

An era of enlightenment, the Age of Wisdom saw many changes in the world. Magic came to be, which the Koopa would study for its properties as a tool of war, to be used should the great evils ever return, and also to ward off sickness of plants and animals alike. They discovered that planting and herding yielded a more consistent supply of food than did hunting and foraging, and so the Koopa became civilized, as the Toadstools had long before. This Age also saw the first explorers venturing beyond the lands of the Koopa, striking out for the distant western lands. It was through this adventuring that a young Koopa named Wendy stumbled upon the Toadstools once more, after walking for ten years. She told them that the great evil was gone, hopefully forever. Still frightened, none but a few would make the journey back with Wendy, and so the Toadstools came to reestablish contact with the Koopa after another ten years of walking.

The Koopa rejoiced at seeing their ancient neighbors once again and a grand feast was held to commemorate the occasion. But the Toadstools had become greedy and envious over the centuries. They saw naught but a land of gold, ready for the taking. Bidding their farewells to the Koopa, they walked ten more years back to their people, insisting that they would tell the others and the two would be friends once again. They told their people of the great prizes to be had, and so the Toadstools, who had themselves become adept at fighting, awoke their great war machines and marched east. Making a pre-emptive strike, they caught the Koopa off-guard and their campaign began an easy start. But they had underestimated the Koopa, for when their armies struck back with both weapons and magic, the Toadstools quickly decided that this land was not worth the loss of life, and retreated back to the west. And so, after four hundred years of enlightenment, began the Age of Decline.

The Koopa isolated themselves from the world and from their magic, believing the bloodshed to be punishment from the spirits for dabbling with the evil magics. Without their magics to aid them, their crops and herds yielded less, and they were forced to make due, unable to properly support their population. They worked harder and received less benefit, and so grew distant to the world, focusing themselves on the bonds that held their families together. Once more, the Koopa became a simple people, content to live as they had thousands of years in the past. So they did for five hundred years, until the Black Gate once again brought evil into the world.


	2. II

**II**

Cold.

Still.

Silent.

This was the morning that dawned. The same morning that had always dawned since he arrived. Bowser stirred sleepily in his blanket, not yet ready to wake up. The last night had already given him so little sleep. Rain threatened, and so lacking the proper shelter, his parents had decided that just for one night, they would stay at an inn. Bowser didn't like the inn, not one bit. They had little money, and so slept in the common area, on the floor. The floor never bothered him; whenever they were out and about traveling, he had always slept on the floor of their tent, on the ground. Bowser liked the ground in this land, especially the grass. It was soft and padded, and he thought it was very comfortable to sleep on. Plus, it created this wonderful tickle if you rolled on it just right.

The floor of the inn was too hard. It had no give at all, and was just completely, utterly solid. If you rolled on it, there was only more hard wood to greet you. He had tossed and turned all night, trying to get comfortable. Finally, he discovered that if he slept on his side, with his back against the wall, he could shut his eyes and fall into a light slumber. It really hadn't been worth it. His muscles were stiff from sleeping on his side all night, but there was no other way he could get to sleep. His back hurt too. He didn't like the inn, not one bit. But he didn't hate it either. If it had rained, it was dry, and much warmer than outside was. Plus, there were the innkeepers, an elderly couple who looked like large mushrooms, with green and pink dots on the large, white caps on their heads. They were really nice. There weren't many guests the last night, and they said that Bowser and his brothers and sisters reminded them of their grandchildren. The man told them stories and showed them pictures of their family, and told them all about the great things they had all done. The Grandmother baked cookies with little pieces of chocolate for all of them. Bowser had never had cookies or chocolate before, but he really liked both of them. He liked the nice old man and nice old lady too. They made sleeping on the hard floor of the inn not-so-bad.

Finally though, he did awake, if only slightly, to the sound of voices. "Oh, bother! That roof is leaking again," said one. "Dear, it's not so bad. I put a bucket under it before too much water got in," came the reply. "Oh, it's not a matter of how much water gets in. It's a matter of principle! I paid that sneak good money to fix the roof, and he didn't even do a halfway decent job!" "Dear, don't get excited. Your heart . . ." Bowser sighed. Why did it always seem like old people would get really sick if they got excited? It must be boring to be old a lot of the time. No playing tag, no hide-and-go-seek, no running through puddles screaming at the top of your lungs. Bowser hoped the old man didn't get sick. He also hoped that he himself would never get old. He'd be so bored. "It's not a bad leak." Bowser instantly recognized that voice. It was his father. "In fact, I could probably go up there and patch it right now." "No, nonsense. We can't ask you to do that," said the first voice. More awake now, Bowser realized it was the old man. "I insist. You've done so much for us already, this is the least I can do to show our thanks." They argued back and forth for a minute or so, and finally the old couple gave in; there was no dissuading the Koopa. Bowser smiled inwardly. Once his dad had it in his mind to do something, he wouldn't stop until it was done.

Finally, his body decided that enough was enough, and commanded him to get up and move. He was so stiff, he needed to move about, and even when he did, it didn't help much. But he was dry and not soaked, so despite his terrible night's sleep, he was thankful nonetheless. Rising from the floor, Bowser wandered towards the voices, to the kitchen, blanket still draped around his shoulders. "Well, look who's awake," Bowser's father said, looking over as his son entered, "And first for a change, too!" "Good morning," Bowser said sleepily. He gave both his parents a hug when he reached the table. "Did you sleep well, little one?" Grandmother asked. "I slept great!" Bowser exclaimed. His body was making powerful arguments otherwise, but he wasn't about to tell _them_ that. "Well, we're happy to hear that our floor was kind to you," Grandfather said. Bowser just smiled at him.

"Well, time for me to fix that roof," Bowser's father said, standing up from his chair. Grandfather just shook his head, saying, "There are tools and some materials in the back room, next to the pantry. Wouldn't you rather wait for it to stop raining?" "My friend, the longer I wait, the more water leaks in." And, as Bowser expected, that was that, and his father went to fetch what he needed.

"Are you hungry, Bowser?" Grandmother asked. If Bowser had anything to say, his reply was immediately cut off by the growling of his stomach. Embarrassed, he crossed his arms over it and squeezed, trying to force it to be quiet. Grandmother, Grandfather and Bowser's mother just laughed. "Oh, that sounds definite to me," Grandmother said, "I'll make something for you." Defeated, Bowser took a seat at the table.

"Bowser," Grandfather said, "Your mother and father tell me that you're a very hard worker." Again, Bowser was embarrassed. "I, guess so," he stammered. "Well, that's just fine," Grandfather replied, "The younger generation, they seem to want to avoid working. Excuses 'til they're blue in the face." "Dear..." Grandmother started. "Now, don't stop me, I'm just telling the boy the truth. It's good that he works hard. Ya hear, Bowser? Life'll get rough sometimes, but if you work hard and stick to your goals, then you'll go far.

"But hard work's only part of it, son. And I'll give you the warning right now, I'm getting political, so if there are any objections, you'd do well to stop me now." Grandmother said nothing, but started to open cupboards and get food out. Bowser guessed that was how she said she didn't mind. "By all means," his mother said, sounding interested. "Well," Grandfather began, "Take the king and queen. I'll grant that they work hard to keep the kingdom running the way it does. I don't think they'd be doing it right if it was easy for them. But at the same time, they're out of touch with us common folk.

"Now, they can't be faulted completely, living in their castle. It's safer for them there, and it puts all the government in one place, so things get done faster. But they don't know what it's like for us. So, when they make decisions, they make them based on what they _think_ we want. And sometimes, they're completely wrong. Just this past month, they decided to improve the army a bit, so that the folks to the east will be less of a worry, if they decide to visit." Bowser's mother sighed. He was born in the Mushroom kingdom, so he didn't know what it was like in the east. But his mother and father were both born there, and they had to leave when they were small, and sometimes they had really bad dreams. Sometimes, they woke Bowser up, so he'd give them a hug and help them feel better. But sometimes, they were really bad dreams, and not all the hugs in the world could help.

"Now, that's all good and well," Grandfather said, "If I could have my way, I'd have the army built up stronger, and then I'd send 'em east to kick those folks out. You Koopas are decent folks, and I have to say I'm a better man for having met and known so many of you. You've got a better work ethic than most of the Toadstools I know, and for the past, ten years, is it?" Bowser's mother nodded. "Ten years," Grandfather continued, "You've just been working so hard and trying to be the best and everything you do, even when it doesn't pay very much or anything. I think, as civilized people, we owe it to you to help you get your home back.

"But my mouth is wandering. What I mean to say, is that while these improvements to the army are good and well, taxes had to go up in order to pay for it. Now, we're a pretty prosperous people, so a little tax increase won't hurt us too much. The problem, though, is that to keep making the same amount of money as we have been, we have to cut the pay to the jobs we give to you folks, on account of we're protected by law and you aren't, and that's just not right. You've worked here just as long as most people, and you've worked harder than a lot of 'em. And even though you never complain about it, I watch, and I see that it's getting harder for you folks every year. Just isn't right.

"But what I mean by all this is that hard work isn't enough to go anywhere in life, Bowser, and I'll bet your mom and dad know this as well as anyone. It takes knowledge too. Not just the kind you read in books, but the kind you get from talking to people. The king and queen don't talk to us, and definitely not to you, so when they make decisions, they end up making decisions that benefit one group while hurting everyone else. They don't have that knowledge that they need, and they aren't trying to get it, so while they work hard, they're almost useless because they don't know what the _people_ need. They only think about what the _kingdom_ needs or what _they_ need. But it's the _people_ that matter. Without the people, the king is nothing. You understand, son?"

"I think so," Bowser said, "If I'm king, I have to pay attention, like mother taught me to." Grandfather pointed at Bowser, semi-excitedly. "I see great things in this one's future. Great, world-changing things. He'll be a politician, I can tell. A good one, too. One who's not afraid to do the right thing, and who people will listen to." "Dear," Grandmother jumped in, bringing glasses of juice to the table. Bowser liked juice. "A politician, maybe. But with the way you're talking, he'll want to be king." "I _will_ be king!" Bowser said, half jumping up in his chair, "And I'll listen to the people and fix everything that's wrong." Bowser's mother hugged and kissed the top of his head. "Not until after you've had breakfast," she said. Smiling widely, Bowser calmed and sat up straight. Breakfast _was_ an important meal, and even the king had to eat breakfast. This, Bowser decided, was the first step towards fixing all the bad stuff.


	3. III

**III**

It was widely held as truth that it was completely unnecessary for the toadstools to maintain an army of any sort, because nothing horrible or even a little bad had happened for hundreds of years that couldn't be handled by local constabularies. Until recently, when the koopa were driven from the east, this held true.

However, the royal family was as of late holding a different opinion. They had reasoned that whatever drove the koopa out might possibly pose a threat to them as well, so they mobilized the army they thought they'd never need and posted them along the borderlands. Taxes went up a small degree, but the citizens, on the whole, felt it a fair purchase of improved security; after-all, with the influx of refugees willing to work for only what they needed to get by, business would still be profitable.

However, when no attacks came, and in fact, no sign of the invaders was seen at all, the citizens sighed with relief, for life would return to normal. Unfortunately, the royal family was lacking in certain sensibilities that the lower classes had, and they assumed that this new threat must have taken special pains to ensure their scouts were hidden. The response was to increase patrols and move them further into the borderlands. Longer supply lines meant still higher taxes, and the cycle continued as the royal family responded to the lack of enemy contact with ever increasing paranoia, and the burden was passed onto their subjects.

The effect was two-fold. On the one hand, prices began to slowly decline so that they were still affordable on reduced budgets. On the other hand, the koopa earned smaller and smaller wages, and gradually began to be passed up for work due to the tendency of the toadstools to look after their own first. Not anyone to be brought down, the koopa simply accepted this as life and pressed on as they always had, focused on their families over hardship.

In this way, it was possible for Bowser and his brothers and sisters to have a mostly happy childhood, free of extreme hardships. They would dance as other children would, play games and tell stories. They would work to help their parents when help was needed, and they would work to help those around them when it seemed the right thing to do. However, not everything could remain this way forever. As they grew older, they began to see the world around them differently. Koopa children, in particular Bowser, found less joy in their games and dances, and could recognize some sad truths that they could not forget with their stories.

Bowser did find, however, one way that he _could_ forget the truths he wanted to deny so badly. Since he was old enough to hold an axe, he chopped wood; for fires, cooking, barter and even just because he wanted to help someone. He had discovered also a book filled with ancient stories of the toadstools. Stories about dragons, knights and princesses, adventurers and warriors and every manner of tale he could imagine. For a time, he had shared these stories with his siblings and friends, until they could not provide the comfort they used to. Instead, he had used it as an inspiration. In one of those stories, a mighty warrior wielded an axe as a weapon. To Bowser, an axe had never seemed to be anything other than a tool for splitting logs. After he tried to figure out how it might be used as a weapon, he figured out why it ought to be little more than a tool. The long handle made it difficult to control, and the weight made it awkward to swing.

But Bowser persisted with axe combat. The idea, not that it could be used to kill another, but that it could be used in any sort of martial art at _all_ had intrigued him, and he had grown determined to figured out how it might be done. His goal was not to become a warrior in any capacity, but simply to solve a problem he had encountered using what he believed to be what the toadstools called "scientific method". Whether or not he was actually using scientific method made no difference to him; it was a smart-sounding thing to say.

His opportunities for practice were not as numerous as he would have liked, for his parents, as they aged, became less able to do the kind of hard labor that was required of them to continue their existence, and they needed their children to help them more and more. As such, when Bowser _was_ able to practice his new hobby, his session would only occur late in the day and sometimes ran until the sky was dark. It was in this way that Bowser discovered sunsets. He had seen one once in his youth, but drew no special satisfaction from it; very little was interesting about a giant ball of light falling into the ocean. But as he he slowly grew bitter to the toadstools around him, he noticed how the colors would change and seem to dance in the sky.

It was during one such sunset that one of the great things happened in Bowser's life, that would eventually alter its course down a road he would have never thought he would take. He had just finished swinging around the family axe, especially proud of himself for having discovered that gripping higher on the haft made the process less awkward and more controllable. He had climbed out of his shell, as all koopa are prone to do in an effort to cool their bodies down, for while they are capable of sweating, their shells act so well to retain heat that they cannot hope to reach a normal temperature while they wear it, and was calmly sitting near the edge of a cliff that bordered the secluded meadow he had found near the town his family was currently employed in. He could never hope to find absolute secrecy in this place, but he could at the least find a measure of privacy, as it was out of sight of the citizenry and was not included in the regular constabulary patrols. In short, it was better than nothing.

As Bowser watched the way the sun's light played on the clouds, changing them from their usual white to a fascinating shade of yellow-orange, he felt inclined to turn his head towards a sound he heard coming from the nearby brush. A small streak of fear ran through him when he realized that perhaps he had been discovered, until he realized that none in his family ever came near this part of the town. Perhaps he had been discovered, but it was no cause for concern; as far as his guest would know, he'd come out here to chop wood and was sitting down to rest and watch the sunset.

What did at this point surprise him was that his new guest was not another koopa or a toadstool. The girl, or at least he was certain it was a girl, was about the same height as a full-grown toadstool, and her skin was the same color, but she lacked the distinctive cap and, for that matter looked nothing like a mushroom. Instead of the cap, her head was covered was brilliantly bright, blonde hair. What stood out most, however, was the expensive looking white dress she wore. At once, Bowser figured out two things. The first was obviously that she was not a toadstool _or_ a koopa. Bowser was quite certain, in fact, that she must have been one of the creatures from the western-most coast. The second was that she was rich. Combining these two facts together, Bowser determined that his best course of action was to stay sitting where he was and resume watching the sunset, pretending he didn't see her. He had learned that people with money only ever caused him trouble.

His luck did not hold long, however, as the girl quietly cleared her throat and said, "Excuse me?" Slightly perturbed that his peace was disrupted, Bowser turned his gaze back to her. "I'm, uh, a little lost?" she tried again, "Do you know how to get back to town?" Bowser's response was only to point in the appropriate direction, after which he returned his attention to the sunset. After a few seconds had passed, he got the distinct feeling that he was still in the company of someone besides himself, and looked over his shoulder a second time. Predictably, the girl was still there. "Did you need something else?" Bowser asked her, really hoping that she'd either say no or have a simple request so he could have his solitude back. "Well, no, not really," was the girl's reply, clearly indicating that she was quite out of her element, "I just thought that I might want to watch the sunset now."

Inwardly, Bowser was both surprised and also very irritated, but as he had gotten older had taught himself not to show anyone who wasn't a koopa emotion. They would give him less grief this way. And so did he present this same exterior to the girl right then, save for plainly asking her, "Will you be quiet while you watch it?" If the girl was offended, she didn't show it either. "Of course. Sunsets should be enjoyed quietly." Unable to find quarrel with that, Bowser returned his attention to the horizon as the girl daintily took a seat on the grass next to him. Any doubts he had about her ability to keep quiet were laid to rest, for quiet is exactly what she stayed.

That isn't to say there _wasn't_ any noise at all, for after several minutes, Bowser could plainly hear the sound of someone, or rather a group of someones, crashing their way through the trees. Bowser heaved a heavy sigh, the tranquility of his sanctuary spoiled a second time. "Oh," the girl said, "I didn't think they'd find me here." "Who?" Bowser asked. "Oh, just the people who were watching me," came the reply. The girl rose and dusted her dress off, just as several toadstools, armed with spears, came into the clearing. "Princess!"

Bowser couldn't hide his emotion this time, face lighting up with surprise and amazement. These few minutes, he'd been sitting alongside royalty and hadn't realized it. His expression was momentary, however, as he fast remembered his overall dislike for the monarchy that had done so little to help his people in these difficult times, and had actually done more to harm them. The toadstools, apparent some form of armed escort, were about as happy to see him as he was to see them. "Away from her, knave!"

"That's quite enough," the princess said, striding towards them, "I am perfectly fine and this koopa has been nothing if not a gentleman. "Let us take our leave now." For an instant, Bowser was angry that she could so quickly forget about him, and then, remembering how polite she'd been earlier, decided that perhaps she was just making an effort to lead her protectors away so they wouldn't bother him more than they had already. This, he decided, must have been the correct opinion, because she then turned and curtsied. "Thank you for sharing the sunset with me," she said. "The pleasure was mine," Bowser replied. It seemed like a stupid thing to say, but he'd heard the toadstools say it to each other, and it seemed like a polite thing to say, so he said it.

Nodding once to him, the princess turned and rejoined her retinue before the entire group retreated into the trees. Bowser returned, for a fourth time, to the setting sun and, seeing that he'd missed the best of it because of the distraction, heaved another sigh and stood up from the ground. Pulling his shell back on and picking his axe up (he'd only then realized that it was probably for the better that the toadstools hadn't seen it), he returned to town himself, thinking over what had just happened. It seemed plain to him that the boorishness of the monarchy was not inherited from generation to generation, because the princess he'd just met seemed nothing but content to enjoy life, rather than worrying her way through it. This, Bowser resolved, was a good life philosophy, and he would remember it when he was king (a plan he'd never abandoned), as it was clearly another essential step towards fixing the world's problems. He also resolved to eventually find out just _who_ the princess was, or at least, her name. He simply knew, in his bones, that their lives were far from being intertwined.

When he did return to the clearing where his and several other families were staying, the scene was no less than one of misery. It was clear that the contingent of royal guards were not the only ones in the town; indeed, it looked as though a small portion of the army had come through as well. And a small portion of that small portion looked as though it desired to entertain itself by harassing any koopas to be found. Bowser decided that perhaps he ought to hang back and wait until they left before approaching the camp. Not only for his own sake in avoiding their shenanigans, but also because he still had the axe, and young boy or not, they might interpret that as a threat, and there would be a great deal of trouble for everyone, including him. Besides, because causing annoyance and discomfort, the platoon's hijinks seemed largely confined to mischief and nothing hurtful or malicious.

It was then that a second event occurred that would alter the course of his life, towards a specific road to a certain destination. Some of the soldiers decided it was time to make their mischief a bit rougher. "A dance! Give us a dance!" one of them shouted. He wasn't going to wait for a response, as he simply grabbed the nearest girl and proceeded to clumsily waltz, too fast and with no rhythm. Bowser wasn't terrible upset for a moment, but only until he realized it was one of his sisters; the oldest, Marci. His comrades laughed no matter who she was, as if it were the funniest thing in the world.

Bowser had never once claimed to have been an expert in the charming of women, but he strongly suspected this was not the proper way to do it. Certainly not if the woman wasn't enjoying herself, as Marci was most certainly not. Bowser's grip around the handle of his axe tightened. At the same time, he felt a hand on his shoulder, and he looked behind him immediately. It was another toadstool who was obviously not in the army. In fact, Bowser saw that a small crowd of onlookers had formed. "Don't do it, son," the toadstool said, "It's not worth it." Bowser sighed and turned back to the debacle angrily. Inside, however, he knew the toadstool was right. It wasn't worth it. They never see these soldiers again, and they'd forget it ever happened in a few days. And then, something else happened.

Marci had decided that it _was_ worth it, and slapped the soldier across his face. Of short temper, the soldier struck back, backhanding her so hard that she was knocked down. That was too much for Bowser, and he tried to run to his sister's aid, but the crowd around him grabbed him and held fast, each of them telling him not to do it. It was for naught, however, as Bowser's anger empowered him with strength he had not otherwise known and he pulled free. All the same, he maintained enough reason to not rush into the midst of the soldiers, and instead, gripped his axe tightly and threw it through the air.

It struck true, becoming firmly embedded in the back of the soldier's mushroom capped head. Being what he was, there was no blood flow from the wound, but it was fatal nevertheless. He tipped forward and fell flat on his face, and his fellows rushed to help him. Some turned and looked in Bowser's direction, and it was impossible to miss him, the lone koopa in a crowd of toadstools. "There! Him!" was all that Bowser needed to hear. He turned and bolted into town as the soldiers rose to give chase.

He didn't know how long he had spent dashing down alleys, over fences and across thoroughfares. Several times, he was nearly caught, but managed to escape. By the time he finally felt confident in his hiding place, the sky was black, and he was sure that it must have been approaching midnight. Slipping back on the streets, but keeping to the shadows and alleys, Bowser gradually made his way back towards the camp to find it in the midst of breaking. One of the koopas saw him in hiding and, after ensuring that no soldiers were around, waved him over, a trip which Bowser quickly made. "We have to leave," his fellow said, "Before they take out their anger on us." Bowser's mother then found him and, crying with fear and relief, hugged him tightly and kissed his forehead. "Mother, I'm sorry! I lost my temper, I didn't-" Bowser tried to apologize, but his mother shushed him. "It's in the past, it can't be helped," she said, "We'll just leave and go somewhere else."

"They've seen him!" someone exclaimed, and when Bowser looked, indeed the soldiers had returned. Some of them had also throw their spears, and the koopas closest to them took the damage, falling over onto the ground, screaming, bleeding and dying. The rest of the camp dropped what they were holding and ran. Ran anywhere that would take them away from the soldiers. Bowser's family ran, and he tried to go with them, but in the confusion they were lost from sight. Another spear flew, killing the koopa to his right, and he ran to the left. He did not stop running until his legs had stopped working, and by then was so far from the town he did not know where he was. His family was lost, and Bowser knew that in the darkness, he would not find them. He also knew that the soldiers may give further pursuit, and that they would kill him if he was found, so he tried to run more. Finding himself unable to, he climbed a tree and hid until the light from the morning sun woke him up.

In the light, Bowser realized that he could find his way back to the town, and he cautiously made his way there. The soldiers did not seem to be patrolling, and so it was an easy task for him. When he arrived once more to the clearing where the camp had been, he found it empty save for the remains of a fire, and he discovered that the bodies from the night before had simply been thrown into a pile and burned. Suddenly ill, Bowser turned and ran from the town once more. This time, he had no plans to return to it, then or ever again.


	4. IV

**IV**

There is no denying that life was difficult for Bowser, even before the incident with the soldier. Life had never truly been easy for him in any regard. However, the youth did not fully understand that life was difficult, as it was always the case that his family was there to look after him, or to be looked after by him. On his own for the first time, it became rapidly clear to Bowser that while life was often proclaim to be beautiful and that every moment of it should be treasured, these were things life in fact was not and did not deserve to be.

For the past month, Bowser had tried to find his parents and siblings, being met each time with failure. Work was scarce to be found, and when he did find it, he often found that others around him were more experienced and better equipped for it than he was. More often than not, they also provided their own tools, and so the koopa was passed over even on jobs for which he was obviously more qualified. He was able to earn a few coins here and there by scraping through the mud for lost trinkets, digging ditches and shoveling stables clean, but even with these funds, he slept outside, an unpleasant proposition with autumn nearly half-over and winter approaching. It was the only way he could hope to eat, however. By the end of the month, Bowser was filthy, half-covered in dried muck, and at the end of his wits, despairing and crushed. Exploiting a loophole in the law of the land (for he was not a citizen and therefore, certain "restrictions" did not seem to apply to him), he began using what meager money to purchase cheap, swillish alcohol from dirty, dark taverns, trying to wash away his sadness and depression. Life was not beautiful, wonderful, enlightening, worth treasuring or a gift.

It was solitary, poor, nasty, brutish and short. He was finding himself more and more eager to be rid of his burden of life. It's very likely that he would have gotten his wish were it not the circumstance one day that he was stopped from squandering his final coins on what he hoped would be his final drink. Although sober, his vision was fogged and misty from irritation and hate, and he had considered very strongly the prospect of attacking the toadstool that had impeded him. "Look, kid, I'm pretty sure you're too young for this sort of thing," he said to the koopa, "And no one deserves to be in this kind of dead end." "I'll fix your fence," Bowser replied, "Or whatever you want me to do, but I'll just be back here and you know it so leave me alone. I'm living by myself, and I want to die that way."

"No dice, kid," the toadstool said, "You're coming to my house for dinner." This statement of fact caught Bowser rather off-guard, and he'd forgotten the retort he'd just thought of, which was just as well as he could not have used it under the now-given circumstances. Bowser quickly tried to think of something to say, but found it unreasonably difficult, and could only manage a simple, "When?" "Right now," the toadstool said, "Get moving." With that, he turned and left the tavern, Bowser hot on his heels. Calloused and jaded as the youth was, he still had more than enough sense not to pass up a free meal.

The walk was not a short one, but even given his poor condition, it was a small matter for Bowser, athlete that he could pretend to be. The house itself was not extravagant by any means, by was rather simple and plain, yet seemed to carry a certain elegance with it that the surrounding structures could not begin to match. Stepping inside once the door was opened, the interior was much the same, elegant in its simplicity. "Dear," the toadstool called, "I've brought someone for dinner. Someone poor." Bowser scowled at the toadstool's back; it wasn't really necessary to add that he was poor. "Noted," came the reply, and then Bowser's host turned and looked at him. "No offense, but you need a bath. It's that way," he said, pointing to a door off to the side, "I trust you know how to work a faucet." "I do," Bowser said as he marched towards the bath, intent on using as much hot water as possible. Maybe that would irritate these people into respect.

All the same, the koopa could not honestly say that he did not appreciate being offered a bath. Being covered in muck was not one of his past times, and he'd no intention of staying that way any longer than necessary. The warm water felt a lot better than the cold creeks he'd occasionally found as well, and so he decided that he could take a little time to enjoy himself. The time still went more quickly than he thought it would, and in the end, he decided that he really didn't need to use up more hot water than he needed.

By the time Bowser stepped out of the bathroom, he felt like he was reborn, clean and feeling a familiar spark of energy again, however faint it was. His timing was not perfect, of course, for dinner was still some time away, so he surmised by the lack of food smell in the house. He'd need some way to pass the time, and the way stumbled right into him not a moment later. He'd guessed that the small toadstool that had just bounced off of him and onto the floor was his host's son, and he was certainly looking apologetic. "Sorry, sorry! I didn't see you!" he exclaimed. "No, no, it's okay," Bowser said, and before he realized it, he helped the toad who seemed even younger than him up to his feet, and decided to go with that. Being tough was too hard right now.

"I'm Bowser," the koopa offered. It must have worked, because the toadstool replied almost immediately, "I'm Toad." At least it was an easy name to remember. "Nice to meet you, Toad," Bowser said back, "Sorry for knocking you over." "Hey, that's okay," Toad said, and then, as if making the observation for the first time, "You're a koopa." Bowser nodded, "Yep." "Never met a koopa before," Toad said again, "Is it true that your all farmers?" Bowser thought about that for a moment. "As far as I know," he said, "Never met one who isn't." "Wow. That sounds like a lot of work." "Only sometimes," Bowser replied, finding himself with a wider smile every time he spoke.

"I wanted to be a farmer, but I'm gonna be an advisor to the princess instead," the toadstool said as he turned to walk further into the house. Bowser followed, mostly out of politeness than anything. "Oh," he said. He remembered the princess, especially that she'd been polite to him and was one of the few non-koopas that had been. But all the same, he asked, almost whining, "Do you have to?" "Yeah," Toad said, "Dad says that there's no reasoning with the king and queen, so I'd better stick with the princess and make sure she doesn't do things that are bad for other people, but you didn't hear that from me." Bowser's smile had return, if only somewhat; fighting the enemy from within. "Yeah, I didn't hear anything," he said. This was definitely a secret he wouldn't mind keeping.

He talked with Toad some more, and when it was finally time for dinner, Bowser found that the company was good. His host's wife said she didn't realize he was a koopa, and quickly asked if the meal was suitable for his tastes (he assured he that it was, and smelled delicious). Both her and her husband's faces lit up a bit when they discovered that Bowser had an interest in politics, casual as it was. They talked about politics for a time, and even though Bowser admitted his knowledge of the subject to be limited, it was decided nonetheless that he was heading in the right direction.

After dinner, they continued talking long into the night, until Toad had fallen asleep and Bowser was on his way there. The koopa turned down offers of a place to sleep for the night, stating that he preferred to sleep under the stars; this was the way of his people. Instead, they offered him a sleeping bag, which he _did_ accept, along with a small care package containing his breakfast. As he hugged and said goodbye, his host told him, "You don't seem like the type that's destined to farm. There's something else you're meant to do, and you should find it and do it." Bowser agreed, and promised that he'd start doing that instead of wasting his money on pig swill in taverns.

As Bowser started his late night trek out towards the wilderness, he set for himself an absolute goal. Right now, the koopa were scattered and divided, and it was easy to push them around because there were more toadstools than them. He resolved that what they needed right now was not tribe leaders, but a king like the toadstools had, only who wasn't paranoid and insane. But they'd need more than a king; they'd need an army too, for that was something else that his host had told him, why the toadstools had maintained an army even after their old war with the goombas ended with a truce.

"If you want peace," Bowser repeated to himself, "Prepare for war."


	5. V

**V**

It is said that time heals all wounds, but that is an outright lie. It would be more accurate to say that time heals most wounds, for there are some that are healed only through more esoteric means, and some that never heal at all. Bowser had spent just over two years learning this, along with other skills he'd deemed necessary to his "education". Gone was the sad and naive child of from two winters past; he had grown into an athletic and mature fighter, or perhaps a civilized thug, depending on the viewpoint.

Only the most exceptional koopa are subject to muscle-binding, and Bowser was not among their ranks. He'd grown a bit taller, and his shell had more scratches and gouges than in the last year, but the definition of his body had not changed much; he might still be mistaken for the wide-eyed dreamer of the past, were it not for his marks, and the heavy pack and the axes he now carried with him. Unlike other fighters who traveled, Bowser had not named his weapons. He wanted to, but could not decide on good ones. Others would adopt crude, violent names like 'Havoc' or 'Malice', or plainly esoteric ones like "Silvery Moon" or "Icingdeth". To Bowser, these names either rang wrong, or sounded stupid. Sometimes, both of these were true.

The most profound changes that the year had wrought, however, were not physical. The day before the day that Toad's father pulled him out of his spiral was the last day that he'd had any alcohol of any kind. This was partly because he desired spiritual betterment, but mostly because he was afraid that the desire, and possibly addiction may return to haunt him, and so he abstained. His eating too, had changed, and he had learned to hunt and forage, and ate no canned or preserved food, if he could help it. Finally, he'd sworn off city life altogether, and when he made camp, it was far enough into the wilderness that the sounds of townships could not reach him (for he would not venture near enough to the kingdom's core to encounter an actual city). In this solitude, Bowser found that he felt more at ease than in an inn, or tavern. He felt the ease he used to in his youth, when he didn't have to worry about things like war.

Bowser was finding, however, that war was ever moving closer and closer to the front of his mind. It wasn't that he desired war with the Mushroom Kingdom. It was that he had traveled east, to the borders of the kingdom and seen first hand what the army had been facing there and beyond. The land was practically desert, the vegetation gradually dying off and giving way to plains of blasted sand. It was here that Bowser had gained the scratches and gouges in his shell, for as the army began its withdraw, they began to employ mercenaries to fill in the gaps and cover their retreat. Bowser was among those mercenaries, and over his year-and-a-half there was infrequently involved in small skirmishes with more toadstools. Not another nation but those that had once been part of the army, driven to insanity and warped of body in sometimes unnatural ways, as if some sort of foul magic was to blame for it. Bowser didn't know anything about magic, but he knew enough that he was through with being a mercenary, for the time being.

Back in the grassy wilderness of the Mushroom Kingdom, Bowser found his thoughts transfixed on the sandy plains he'd seen, wondering what was beyond them. He'd been told that the koopa came form the east, which could only be from _across_ those same plains, but how anything had lived out there was something he could not even begin to guess at. At the same time, however, his thoughts were returning to the cities. After his jaunt in the east, he found himself lacking certain items that were indispensable to his continued travels, and unfortunately, they were not items that could be found in the wilderness. And so, he had spent no more time than usual on his day-long walk from one town to the next, the sun just a tiny sliver peeking over the horizon, but instead walked further than usual, finding himself more and more apprehensive as the sight of houses and shops drew closer and closer.

As soon as his foot hit the flagstone street within the town itself, Bowser felt as if he'd entered another world. The sounds and smells were different, and even the air felt different. Shaking the daze free from his mind, Bowser set out immediately for a general store, which were always easily identifiable by the large mushroom on the signs outside their doors, and found it locked up for the night. "Damn," the koopa muttered to himself. He should have figured it would have been, but it didn't hurt him to hope. "Hey!" a voice called. Bowser turned toward it, and found a trio of the town's watchmen standing there. His muscles tensed slightly upon seeing their spears, but he decided that they probably wouldn't attack as long as he didn't make any hostile motions.

"What're you doing over here?" one of the watchmen asked. He appeared to be the one with rank in the group. Bowser shrugged his shoulders, replying, "I'm obviously not getting my shopping done." "Oh, a funny man, huh?" the toadstool said, "Well, funny man, why don't you get back over to your kind? And what's with those axes, huh? You got a permit for those?" Bowser could not say he cared for the watchman's tone of voice, but he was only doing his job, certainly. "They're for fighting," the koopa replied, "I wasn't aware I needed permission to carry them, since it was always implied that I could. If it's trouble you're concerned about, I'll give you none. I only need a few supplies and was hoping the shop hadn't closed yet." "That figures," the watchman said, "Well, get back to your quarter. It's east, in case you forgot, and I don't want to _ever_ see you out here again, you got that?"

Now, Bowser was on the verge of anger. But, it wasn't worth the ire of the entire town. "Good night, gentlemen," he said, walking away from the trio and turning down the first street he found that went to the east. No watchman had ever been this rude to him before. It seemed to Bowser that a lot can happen in two years, especially if you aren't around. Glancing around as he walked, Bowser took note of the state of the town. It was in good repair, but it was obvious to him that no koopa had been working on these structures for some time; the workmanship was completely different. The streets could have used a good sweeping, but they were otherwise free of refuse. What struck him as slightly odd was that, aside from the watchmen, no one seemed to be out. In a town of this size, people would normally be out and about until the sun had gone completely down. His thoughts again changed themselves when he became aware that he was approaching a section of the town surrounded by a tall fence. It was made rather hastily from wooden planks, and Bowser knew from his years of experience that a fence like this, and especially one lacking an actual gate, would not keep anyone from climbing over it. Combined with the two toadstools standing guard just outside the apparent entrance, which was made from little more than a cattle gate, it was clearly meant only to be a casual deterrent. The koopa was liking the look of things less and less.

"Hey, what're you doing out here?" one of the guards demanded to know. "I only just arrived," Bowser replied. "Well, then get in there!" the other guard shouted, pointing past the cattle gate with his spear. The light immediately around them was poor, and Bowser figured they could not see he was armed because of it. He decided he'd best not call attention to himself, and quickly entered the gates when they were opened for him. The story of the town was very different on the other side. The lighting was even worse, with none being permanently installed, but despite the darkness, Bowser could immediately tell that the street was not paved and was covered with muck and likely garbage too. The smell would seem to indicate that. Prepared for a change, Bowser drew a simple oil lantern from his pack and lit it. Able to see now, Bowser was all the more shocked.

The craftsmanship of the buildings around him was rushed, shoddy and poorly-directed. It wouldn't take much more than a small earthquake to bring them down. The street was indeed unpaved, and contained garbage and other refuse Bowser preferred not to think about. As he walked, wide-eyed and stunned, he became aware that there _were_ others out in this section of town. All of them were koopas, and all of them had obviously seen better days, thin and in poor shape. Although he had served as a mercenary, nothing he had ever seen could prepare him for any of what he was seeing now. In the next moment as he walked through the slum, he became acutely aware that one of the females he passed had taken a more than casual interest in him. "Goodness, aren't _you_ a healthy one," she said, practically walking into Bowser's chest and curling her arms around his neck, "Better than I've seen in a long time. Why don't you come inside with me?" Bowser was completely stunned for several seconds, seconds that seemed like hours to him. All at once, something in him snapped and regained not only his composure, but also a familiar anger. Roughly grabbing the female's face with his hand, Bowser shoved her away, knocking her down into the muck. "Get away from me!" he shouted, "I won't tolerate your witchery."

The female was even more stunned now than Bowser had been only a moment ago, and it clearly showed on her face. Without giving her time to answer, he resumed walking down the street. If people were out and about, he reasoned, then it was likely a shop would still be opened and he could make his purchases and get out of this wretched place. "You know, you really, really shouldn't have done that." Bowser turned to the new voice and was confronted with another koopa, male this time, a few inches shorter than him with large, thick glasses that glinted in the light of Bowser's lantern. "Her boss is going to be mad at you," the short koopa continued, "He'll probably have you beaten up." "Let him," Bowser replied, "He won't find me an easy opponent." He continued walking, stopping after a few seconds and turning around to discover he had a follower.

"You're not from here," the short koopa said again, "I can tell because you're different than the rest of us. You're, kind of pushy." "I am my own self," Bowser said, "I will not be used or taken advantage of, and I will not poison myself here or anywhere." "Poison, huh? So, what, are you too good to be here with us? You think you're _better_ than us?" the koopa asked. "If this is how you live," Bowser replied, "In this pit of, _corruption_, then _yes_, I _am_ too good to be here and I _am_ better than you." For a long time, the short koopa stood there, staring at Bowser from behind his glasses in shock, and also in awe. Finally, he extended his hand. "I'm Kamek," he said. Bowser was getting used to this sort of thing; apparently, there was just something about him that people occasionally found inspiring. Or irritating. So, he took the other koopa's hand and shook. "Bowser."

Kamek was just beginning to ask another question when a commotion caught the attention of both koopas. A small group was advancing towards them, making no secret of their approach. The female that Bowser had pushed down into the muck was apparently leading them. "That's him," she said, "The tall one." Bowser surveyed the group, quickly surmising that the koopa that was the biggest among them must be the "boss". When he stepped forward, it was almost certain. "So," he said, "You walk down my street and disrespect my woman. I don't appreciate that, one bit." In the lantern light, Bowser could see why he was in charge. He was one of the specimens subject to muscle-binding, and had a correspondingly huge physique. He looked like he could break another koopa in half, if he so desired. Bowser could also tell that Kamek was afraid, so he stepped in front of him, having never liked bullies to begin with.

"She walked into me," Bowser said, "And so she was the first one to throw around disrespect." The boss was not amused, drawing closer and attempting to use his bulk to intimidate the smaller Bowser into submission. "Oh, is that so?" he asked, "Maybe I'll just punish you half as much then." Finally at the end of his already frayed temper, Bowser did what no one, especially the boss, was expecting him to do. He raised his fist and sent it flying, and was rewarded with a crack as the larger koopa's nose broke. The stunned shock was immediately apparent, and left Bowser with plenty of time to calmly walk towards where he had entered the quarter. Not for nothing, he'd had more than enough of this nonsense. His shopping could wait for the morning, when these people would hopefully be less irritating. If he was lucky, he could go to the shop in the regular market and avoid them altogether.

Lucky that none of the koopa had tried to stop him, Bowser was less fortunate when he found his exit barred. "Hey, you're with your people now, you stay there," one of the gate guards informed him, holding a spear across the road to indicate that there would be no passage out. For years, Bowser had endured these insufferable mushrooms, and finally decided, at that instant, that enough was enough. In a flash, he grabbed ahold of the spear and, with both the sentries surprise, spun in a half-circle, using the first toadstool to bludgeon the other. Both we rendered unconscious or at least stunned, and that was enough. "Don't worry," Bowser said, "I'll be leaving your company now." And Bowser walked along the same path he had when he entered, running into no further difficulties and returning to the unsettled forest outside of the town.

Back in the solitude of nature, Bowser silently raged at his circumstances. He had done nothing if not given the toadstools his faithful service for as long as he could remember, taking the jobs even other koopas would not. If this was the manner in which they would repay him, it was obvious enough that they weren't deserving of his continued service. Bowser had no sooner reached this decision than he noticed, or at least felt, that he was not alone. Falling still except to draw an axe, Bowser listened to his surroundings. In his youth, he might have disregarded the subtle sounds of the woods, but now, in his experience and unease, he knew enough to notice everything. Slowly, he settled down into a crouch.

And then immediately sprang into a diving leap when he was halfway to kneeling. He spun as he dove, swinging his axe at a large form that had suddenly pounced at him from the foliage. The strangest of it, Bowser noticed as he rolled along the ground and hopped up into a combative stance, was that his axe felt as though it had hit air. He did not need to look around, for standing directly in front of him was a massive creature with leering eyes and sharp fangs. It's body looked as if it were made from stone and it was vaguely humanoid, with at least two arms and two legs, although it may have had more. It was the largest, anything that Bowser had ever seen. The beast growled, sounding like a rolling boulder, and stalked in a slow circle around the koopa, who stood his ground, unafraid and awaiting the first move from his opponent. The first move of battle came from neither of them.

_Bowser_, a voice rang from somewhere, _Proud and noble warrior of the koopa. The last to hold to his true heritage._ In short order, Bowser realized that the voice existed nowhere but in his own head. He was losing his mind, surely. _Fear not the creature before you, for it is none other than I, Bellezar! The Spirit King of the Scarred Land!_ In an impressive but no less disturbing display, Bowser watched as the rock creature took what could have only a great bow. Somehow, Bowser managed to maintain his composure even in the face of this otherworldly monstrosity. _You are unafraid?_ the beast Bellezar asked in his mind-speech. "Of you?" Bowser replied, "I've seen what perversions the lands to the east brings to good people. Tell me, are those the Scarred Lands you rule?"

_They are,_ the great Bellezar said with a nod, _Although they were not always. There was a time when the lands were not corrupted by the dark powers there, a time before that when they were, and still before that when they were untouched even by the koopa_. This gave Bowser pause, as it was unfamiliar knowledge. He had known that the wastelands to the east were once green and more verdant than any lands in the west, he had known of no other states before that. _You dream still,_ Bellezar continued, _Of a united people, unoppressed by others and free to conduct their own affairs as their please?_ "Yes," was Bowser's only reply. _Once, the koopa would work in harmony with the spirits to protect their tribes and to grow strong. Alas, we are mostly forgotten now._

"What do you want in return?" Bowser asked suddenly. The rock beast looked perplexed. _What do you mean?_ it asked. "You've come here to offer your aid to me," Bowser said, "It's the only sensible explanation. But what do _you_ want in exchange?" Voice sounding like stones crashing together, the Spirit King chuckled. _The koopa do not remember us, and we are saddened because of it,_ he replied. "You want the koopa to remember you, then?" Bowser asked, "To honor you? Pray to you?" _Before anything can be done, I cannot last long so far from my sanctum. I need a host to keep me, and the host I have chosen is you, Bowser._

Bowser took a step back from Bellezar. "I am nobody's host, chosen by you or anyone," he snarled defiantly. _Bowser, I offer you more than simply another entity in your body,_ Bellezar replied, _I offer you power. The power of the Scarred Land itself, and the knowledge of your ancestors' past, kept from your generation out of misguided fear. I offer you my service, if you will only remind your people of the bond they once shared with the spirits._ To Bowser, this offer was the ultimate temptation, the perfect means to his end. But in his experience, he had learned that no offer was ever without strings, and never to be taken lightly. Carefully considering the potential consequences of his answer, the koopa finally spoke. "I accept."

The dark of the night was interrupted by a loud sound, like a rock slide or avalanche, a bright light and a sudden rush of uncharacteristically strong wind. As suddenly, as they had appeared, they subsided, and the sentries standing ready to keep the koopas in their own quarter wondered if it might be more than a freak lightning strike.


End file.
